You're always wondering what might have been
by squiresteve
Summary: Scripps is starting to come to terms with his feelings for a fellow classmate, takes place around the Holocaust discussion in class.


Posner found himself briskly walking through an empty hallway, making his way to Irwin's classroom. Classes ended five minutes ago, but Irwin had asked to meet at the end of the day. Posner regrettably did not have a good feeling about this proposition. Recently had he confronted Irwin about his arising homosexual feelings, seeking advice. Also coincidentally did their accidental eye contact continue, and increasingly so. Posner quickly listed any accidental signals he may have sent in the past few weeks, cursing his carelessness, until he began to shoot said thoughts down. Irwin was a teacher, a professional one. Posner loved Dakin, and Irwin seemed to respect that enough.

But surprisingly, as he approached Irwin's classroom, the unexpected sound of a piano began; the sound of a soft, lower chord, accompanied by a higher, familiar melody being plucked out toward the top of the keyboard. Upon recognizing the tune, Posner immediately knew the person on the other side of the door. He was absolutely positive no one in the entire school, save Hector, knew obscure musicals as Posner and Scripps did. He stopped at the door, listening as Scripps began the lyrics:

"_Not a day goes by,_  
_Not a single day,_  
_But you're somewhere a part of my life,_  
_And it looks like you'll stay._  
_As the days go by,_  
_I keep thinking, "When does it end?"_  
_That it can't get much better much longer._  
_But it only gets better and stronger_  
_And deeper and nearer_  
_And simpler and freer_  
_And richer and clearer_"

He reached to the door handle for a better listen, opening it quietly and stepping inside without Scripps noticing. Sure, Posner had heard his friend sing before: with the music they did together, it was as common as talking. This time, though, Scripps found himself (as he thought) completely alone. He was not performing, nor practicing. He was simply singing.

"_And no,_  
_Not a day goes by,_  
_Not a blessed day_  
_But you somewhere come into my life_  
_And you don't go away._  
_And I have to say_  
_If you do, I'll die._  
_I want day after day_  
_After day after day_  
_After day after day_  
_After day after day_  
_After day_  
_Till the days go by,_  
_Till the days go by,_  
_Till the days go by._"

"If you wanted to duet so badly you could have told me."

Scripps concealed his shock, instead remaining still, hunched toward the piano opposite Posner, who stood at the door. "My poor moment of solitude, Pos."

"I think it'll be alright." Posner replied nonchalantly while Scripps remained still. "Honestly, since when could you sing like that?"

"I really was just practicing Pos, it's nothing."

"Nothing, really? As if you've ever sung like that around me. I sometimes wonder if you even care about me." He made his way to the piano, sitting to the the right of his friend, forcing his attention. "Play something else, I know you know more."

Scripps looked away, rubbed his head, and sighed. "I, I don't think so, my hands are a bit tired, you know."

"Bullshit, you've played one song!"

After a brief silence, Scripps turned to Posner. "Oh, okay, then!"

"Why are you laughing?"

"No reason." he smiled jokingly, beginning a new tune with a series of upbeat minor chords.

"_I wonder what he'll think of me?_  
_I'll guess he'll call me 'the old man-_'"

"No, no, no, stop that." Posner interrupted, shooing his hands from the piano, "Something more sad, like the song before."

"More sad than Carousel? Have a heart, Pos! Billy Bigelow, he commits suicide." Scripps had a secret Rodgers and Hammerstein soft spot.

Knowing this, Posner sighed snobbishly, "Well," He clapped. "Come on. Get at it. Try something nostalgic, a love song, maybe?"

Scripps' expression faded as he switched his gaze toward the keys, away from his friend. "Let me think a bit..." He began a monotoned, jazzy accompaniment:

"_You're always sorry_  
_You're always grateful_  
_You're always wondering what might have been_  
_Then she walks in._"

"No, no, not quite," Posner frowned. "Relax, like you did it before. You're wonderful."

"Honestly, I'm fine on self-esteem. Is this any better?" Scripps grinned while beginning a series of soft, lower chords. Posner failed to recognize the tune until the unmistakeable melody began:

"_I've never been in love before..._"

"What? No! No!" Posner yelled as Scripps snickered.

"If you'd let me finish something, maybe you'd like it!"

"Fine, fine. I won't interrupt this time, I promise."

"Famous last words, Pos." Scripps took a moment to think of a new tune before switching to something more melodic.

"_It started out like a song._  
_We started quiet and slow,_  
_With no surprise._  
_And then one morning I woke_  
_To realize_  
_We had a good thing going._

_It's not that nothing went wrong:_  
_Some angry moments, of course,_  
_But just a few,_  
_And only moments, no more,_  
_Because we knew_  
_We had this good thing going._

_And if I wanted too much,_  
_Was that such_  
_A mistake-_"

The playing ceased, causing a silence until Posner spoke up. "Why did you stop, it's not nearly finished?"

"There's something wrong. You're pouting your lips, don't think I don't see it. It's quite rude, you know."

He paused. "Okay, fine, this song is much too sad. Way too sad... could I, maybe..."

"Could you, what?"

"Demonstrate what I had in mind, Scrippsy?" He rested his hands and chin upon Scripps' right shoulder, while Scripps, for a moment unsure what sort of demonstrations were in store for him, remained still.

"Go ahead, I'll match."

"Well, what if you don't know this one?"

"Honestly, we know all the same songs."

"That's really true, isn't it? Umm..." He closed his eyes. "B-flat." Posner got into character and began, Scripps smirking at the song choice and accompanying shortly after:

"_With so little to be sure of,_  
_If there's anything at all._  
_If there's anything at all._  
_I'm sure of here and now and us together._  
_All I'll ever be I owe you,_  
_If there's anything to be._  
_Being sure enough of you_  
_Makes me sure enough of me._  
_Thanks for everything we did,_  
_Everything that's past,_  
_Everything's that's over too fast._  
_None of it was wasted,_  
_All of it will last:_  
_Everything that's here and now and us together!_  
_It was marvelous to know you_  
_And it isn't really through._  
_Crazy business this, this life we live in-_  
_Can't complain about the time we're given-_"

Scripps glanced toward Posner and watched him sing.

"_With so little to be sure of in this world,_  
_We had a moment_  
_A marvelous moment._"

With the ending notes, Scripps retained eye contact with Posner, purposefully making the ending note an octave higher to move closer. Pathetic, he thought, nonetheless effective. Posner smiled quietly back, upon the last note.

"That was, uh, that was very good." Scripps looked away. "You've improved since last semester."

"Thanks."

Posner wrung his hands together, feeling ashamed. He loved being around Scripps, he enjoyed his company, and now that Dakin spent more time with Irwin, the two got closer every day. He then noticed how close they had been sitting; shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg. Posner thought of reaching to him, putting his hand soflty to his face, bringing him closer.

"Well." Posner stood ubruptly and made his way to the door. "I'd better find Irwin. We've been in here for a while now, haven't we?"

"Irwin?" Scripps turned around. "He said he was out of classes early, let me practice in his classroom. You supposed to meet him?"

Quickly Posner recalled how tricky Irwin actually was. How he always wanted to show off his own cunning, yet was still, refreshingly yet secretly, generous to his students.

Posner smiled. "No, I had questions on the essay topic."

"If you need help, I've it written already."

"That's fine, I think that's cheating, anyhow."

"Yeah, I suppose."

Posner swallowed hard and looked at Scripps, who was caught between resuming piano playing or contributing to the conversation. He hated it when Scripps acted like this: it made Posner do all the work.

"Well, I should get going then."

"Yeah."

Posner started for the door, but paused and turned around once more as he reached for the knob. "Have you ever spoken to Irwin, for advice or anything?"

"Once or twice. I know you can probably go to Hector, Pos; not the best idea for me."

"No, that wasn't it." he hesitated,"You normally pray, though?"

Scripps scratched his head, choosing his words carefully, "You know, sometimes I think there's business where God just isn't very knowledgeable. I don't think he'd be interested, anyhow."

Posner smiled. "See you." He let the door close behind him.


End file.
